


A Sip to Brace the Nerves

by olimakiella



Series: Tea Arc [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Caffeine Addiction, Coffee, Established Relationship, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Relationship Advice, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olimakiella/pseuds/olimakiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a New Years Party, Harry is wishing for a way to resist Draco long enough to finally ask Draco to move in before he loses his nerve altogether. Be careful what you wish for, Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sip to Brace the Nerves

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. 
> 
> Originally written for enchanted_jae's monthly drabble prompt of: WINTER/HOLIDAY PLANTS: Ivy.
> 
> Warnings: Bit of flangst, some bromancion, frottage and groping.

 

He hadn’t asked him. New Years had come and gone at midnight, and well over the last couple of days, Hermione kept  _staring_  at him. Still, he hadn’t said a word. Now, asking Draco to move in was all he could think about. No matter what Hermione said, Harry still believed the probability of Draco saying no was so high that even as he knew he had to do something - to  _say_  something - their relationship now had a time stamp. It was counting down every minute left of their time together, much like that large clock had counted down the end of the year.   
  
Instead, Harry filled the time with making sure every second they were together counted. This included much of the activity he was inducing now, on his doorstep.  
  
Draco arched into him, pushed him further into the door and moaned in his ear, his hands busy at Harry's belt. Their breaths smelled of alcohol due to the insane amount of drinks flowing at the New Year party Zabini had held at his manor and Harry had taken in a large quantity of the endless supply of alcohol to brace his nerves for impending doom. The place was huge and every available surface that didn’t have people making out, had liqour in bottles of various shapes and sizes.  
  
Harry ignored the size of the bloody mansion, even though it reminded him terribly of his dilemma.  
  
He was trying very hard to open the door, but his damn hand wouldn’t cooperate. It was boneless, along with the rest of his body, especially with what Draco was doing now in his jeans.  
  
 _This would be so much better horizontal_ , his foggy mind was able to tell him. It was true, though. Draco did his best work horizontally. “Up- _fuck!_ ”  _Wow_ , his mind ammended,  _vertical too. Ask him, you complete idiot. I_ refuse _to share him._  Harry managed to pull himself away from Draco enough to secure his hand on the door and turn the knob. “Inside.”  
  
Draco leered at him, smirking. “Mmm, happy New Year to me.”  
  
Despite what he knew he was about to do, Harry grinned. “You don’t get presents for New Years.”  He shut the door with a quiet click.  
  
Draco looked appalled. His face was flushed pink, his cheeks dusted with the colour. “What? Why on Earth not?” There was only a slight slur, but it was endearing to hear such an uptight man mispronounce 'Earth' as  _earf_ using his prim snotty accent, which, thankfully, only came out when he drank.  
  
Harry just shook his head, his eyes shutting when Draco attacked him again from behind, like he did on the doorstep. He had to stop turning his back on this man. Harry turned around and held Draco still, resting his forehead against his.  He could do this.  Somehow.  
  
Draco allowed a small frown to mar his brow. “Something wrong?” he asked him.  
  
Harry sighed. “I want to ask you something.”  
  
Draco rocked them, walking backwards into the living room. He reached his hands up and around Harry’s neck. He smiled, his eyes bright. “Ask me later.” Draco spoke as if that was the best idea he'd had in the history of thinking and that deep, convincing voice made Harry's loins stir, even as a small part of him knew he shouldn't give in. Draco tugged on Harry and pulled him forwards to land on him.  Harry fell, preparing himself to withstand the full force of Draco’s sexiness, when something else stopped him cold.  
  
“What the-? Hey!  _Whoa! Stop!_ "  
  
Harry looked up over Draco’s shoulder and frowned at the man lying underneath them. “Ron?”  
  
Draco looked over his own shoulder and frowned, but even with his alcohol laden mind, Harry could see the cogs turning. An instant smirk evilly took place over the confusion.  
  
Ron had his eyes closed. “Please get off me.”  
  
Harry raised himself up, leaving one knee on the couch. He held out a hand to help Draco up.  
  
Draco didn’t move. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” His voice was soft as silk, and carefully pronounced, though that did little to make Harry believe the act of innocence.  
  
Ron still held his arms out and up in a sign of surrender, refusing to become a part of the situation. He probably felt the less body parts he had involved, the more he could deny it happened. He opened his eyes and glared at Draco. “ _Yes_.”  
  
No such luck. Draco turned and grinned at Harry. “I’m fine where I am, thank you.”  
  
Having enough, Ron pushed at Draco’s shoulders. “Harry, get him off me!”  
  
Harry knew that look in Draco’s eye. He lamented the idea that the man he knew so well could very well have left him tonight. In a way he was thankful Ron was here. Though he didn’t know why. Still, he should probably move Draco now before the man caused permanent mental damage to his best friend. He grabbed hold of Draco’s arm and pulled quickly. They may have been getting along civilly, but that didn’t mean anything in a Malfoy-Weasley truce. “Would you be terribly upset if I told you I had a dream like this once?” he heard Draco say and closed his eyes in horror. He pulled even harder with Ron’s assistance.  
  
“Harry! Get him off me, now!”  
  
Draco cackled evilly, in a way that, creepily, reminded Harry of Moaning Myrtle, and finally allowed Harry to drag him up off the traumatised man.  
  
With the evil influence behind him, Harry finally asked what he'd been wondering before. “Ron, what are you doing here?”  
  
Ron was running his hands through his hair, likely massaging his scalp to rid himself of an encroaching headache.  “You gave me your keyword to pass your floo. Hermione..." Forgetting the situation in front of him, he closed his eyes again. "Her pregnancy... she’s  _evil_." He looked up at his friend. "I needed to get away for a while, so I told her I was going to a party.  She let me, which tells you exactly how much she wanted me gone.  But I just didn’t feel like socialising, wanted some silence." He shrugged. "I figured if you weren’t in, you’d probably spend the night by him,” he said pointing to Draco. “I needed to rest so... hmm, I must have fell asleep.”  
  
Harry looked from Ron to Draco. Draco was still smiling, but stopped when Harry nudged him. He sighed and turned to leave.   
  
“Where are you going?” The prospect of him going home was one Harry didn't want to contemplate now.  
  
Draco looked over his shoulder at the two men. “I’m going to attempt to put your kettle on. I have a feeling we’ll all need a strong cup of tea.” Harry watched Draco go, walking with such an air of confidence.  Harry wished Draco would give him some. He definitely needed it.  
  
When he turned back to Ron, he found the redhead staring at him. “Did you ask him?” he said as if he regretted it. "Was this... a celebration?" Harry ignored the small undertone of 'ick' coming off his friend and shook his head.  
  
“I was about to.”  
  
He did not miss the thorough sweeping of his rumpled form, though. “ _Really_ ,” Ron said, knowingly. “Unorthodox method, but whatever.” Ron yawned rubbing the back of his neck in silence.  
  
The silence spoke volumes. Harry bit into his bottom lip. He swore, sometimes Ron sounded just like Hermione. “He’s... distracting-”  
  
“He’s a  _menace_ ,” Ron said, pausing momentarily to give him a stern look.  
  
“Yeah..." Harry said faintly, looking back out towards his kitchen. "But he’s  _my_  menace. Never a dull day.”  
  
Ron snorted at the lovesick tone. “I’ll bet.” He stood up, putting back the blanket that hung over the back of Harry’s living room couch. “Look, I obviously interrupted something... personal," he said, giving Harry another once over. He sighed. Looking around, he spotted his cloak on the chair. "I’m gonna head home. Hermione might be waiting up or something. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He picked up his cloak, draping it over his arm and then stood still for a second in an awkward silence. “I’d hug you, but your fly’s undone and I dread to think of the reason, since you were just  _on top_  of me.”   
  
Harry let out a quiet laugh. It was okay, then. He'd known Ron long enough to know that statement meant they were okay. Harry held out his hand with a grin. Ron gave him an ‘are you mad?’ look. “Yeah, I don’t know where that hand has been, so you can keep it to yourself.” He laughed. “Listen. Good luck, yeah?" He grabbed Harry by the back of his neck and brought him closer, resting his forehead against his, suddenly serious.  From this vantage point, all Harry could see of his eyes was a fiery glint from the fireplace, the rest was so dark, it was mesmerising. Quietly, Ron said to his best friend, "He’d be a  _fool_  not to stay. But you would be a bigger fool not to ask him.” He let Harry go, back to his usual self, and gave him a small awkward wave as he walked to the fireplace and exited in a flash of green fire.  
  
Sometimes he could sound like Hermione, but sometimes he sounded just like Ronald Weasley: his best friend filled with rare and unexpected wisdom.  
  
Harry took a deep breath. He could hear the clatter of crockery in his kitchen and turned to walk towards the sound. He hoped against hope, as he steeled himself in his living room, that this would not be the last time he heard it.


End file.
